


Harrison Peverell-Potter and the House of Lords

by Brennah_K



Series: From Gringotts to Hogwarts - with love [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A Hermione with Sass, A New House for Hogwarts, A Smarter Than the Average Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Borrowed backstories from LOTR, Dark secrets revealed, Evil Albus Dumbledore, Goblins rescue Harry, Good and Bad Voldemort, Harry Adopts Hard-luck-cases, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Not Canon Compliant, Politically Savvy Harry Potter, Smarter than the Average Harry, Tip of the hat to LOTR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: The third in From Gringotts to Hogwarts - with love series, this fic won't probably won't stand alone without the reading the other two first.  Picking up with Harry's return to consciousness after the Gringotts' Grand Review at the end ofGringotts' Lesser Known Branchand touching on the events fromSeverus Snape-Prince and the Philosopher's Stonefrom a different perspective, this fic will continue through to the end of Harry Potter's and the Goblin Wards' first year at Hogwarts and its fall out.





	1. On Waking

  
  


“My congratulations, Riga’nok,” Healer Mensetcorpor offered as Harry regained consciousness, his tone less ironic than Harry would have normally expected. 

As Healer Mensetcorpor continued to scan him without further comment, Harry realized that the healer might have actually meant the comment and hurried to express his gratitude only to be chastised to remain still as the healer continued casting. 

“My initial fee estimation is seventy-two galleons, forty-five sickles. If there are any additional potions or treatments required this off course will be adjusted. Do you accept?”

Wincing at the fee, Harry nevertheless accepted it and signed off for treatment in the extended invoice. One of the earliest lessons that Manager Griphook had brought home to Harry when he first came into Gringotts’ care was that if he would not invest in himself neither would Gringotts, and as such the most-critical ‘core investment’ which must be made without question was to insure one’s health - as both productivity and profitability were in-arguably impaired by injury and illness. After making a small notation in his invoice journal, the healer handed it to Harry for his signature, explaining with a scowl:

"The haz’bek’i auditor’s challenge has resulted in two broken and one cracked rib, dislocated and cracked bones in your hand, and two severe cracks in bones of your upper left leg… all of which will require skelegrow as well as a bindbone potion to ensure their full integrity when you return to defense training. Aloe seed balm can, of course, treat the severe bruises and lacerations across your pectorals more quickly, but my recommendation is the use of foal's breath potion instead. The healing process is lengthened by two days, but using the foal’s breath potion will not have the contra-indications should you wish to use the pain-kill potion."

"I would, Healer Mensetcorpor, thank you." Harry answered, somewhat stunned that the healer had referred to an auditor of such high rank as haz’bek’i ( _dishonourable_ ) in his presence. While Defense Master Thornbrow had informed Harry that by virtue of entering galleonclaw training, his rank was nearly equal to all of the auditors but the high auditor himself, his youth and background would have been sufficient reasons for the healer to be more restrained in his comments.

After the first round of potions, when the child settled back into the healing bench, feeling the slightest bit mischievous, Healer Mensetcorpor offered, “I should, perhaps, warn you, Riga’nok, that Healer CurseSeal has been and gone to prepare an updated nutritional regimen to maximize the yttrium in your system, currently sheathing your damaged bones and bruised organs, to further speed healing before it is naturally retracted to its central resting points.” 

Healer Mensetcorpor’s warning was thoroughly drenched in knowing amusement as he watched with visible enjoyment the microsecond grimace that crossed Harry’s face at another stricture to be relayed from the galleonclaw’s primary healer. As much as he might appreciate the healer’s diligence, Healer Curseseal had that peculiarly-particular trait that he had noticed in most of the female goblins that Harry had dealt with in the past: a vicious imagination.

Where Defense Master Thornbrow penalized insufficient progress with additional training time and Manager Griphook employed standard fines to correct his charges’ failings, Healer Curseseal’s course-corrections were unpredictable - varying from instructing Hibby and the wards' assigned elves to bring Harry twenty-four small meals spaced every thirty minutes over a twelve hour period for three whole days after a previous check-up had informed her that Harry had not been as diligent as he should have been in following the assigned nutritional regimen - to spelling Harry asleep wherever in the bank that she found him if he worked over the set schedule that she had deemed appropriate for a human-child-of-his-age and levitating him back to the wards' suite - to informing his retention managers that she would be medlocking the drawers containing reports and questionnaires regarding his charges if she continued to find him working past her assigned break times without her permission. 

ブレンキン

"You have a question?" Healer Mensetcorpor questioned, reading the small burst of curiosity that crossed his face when he'd used the child's title again. 

"The way you pronounced my Rig'anok, just then."

"Ah, yes. I see. Your manager would not have had a reason before this to assume that he would have need to explain the title conjugations and alterations that most striplings through the process of attending successive annual and Grand reviews. Even with your title, your first expected Grand Review would not normally have been until you reached at least your quarter life, which for Wizards, I believe, is 40 years, based on the average ages of surviving wizards after the most recent civil war. You must realize, of course, that there have not been many of our wards who have elected to continue their association with Gringotts, for so long."

"It is likely that your manager considered the expense of time to share this detail was not warranted in measure to the many other topics of conversation that will have had more impending returns. As I have no other pending tasks to attend to and the reviews have been released for evening feasts, if you are not due to any tasks, I might explain." He offered the child, amused with the Riga'nok's quick acceptance. 

"Very well;" he continued, "However, before I begin, I should note that Manager Griphook, Coronae Magister Magia, Defense Master GalleonClaw Thornbrow, and Mistress-Healer Galleonclaw Curseseal are meeting with a dignitary and will be stopping in when they have finished the meeting."

"Thank you, Healer Mensetcorpor." The young Riga'nok answered, accepting the invoice to initial for the added discussion time. 

"Very well. Your observation of the change in inflections does your manager credit, Riga'nok. Few humans learn our language well enough to pick up the nuances of such declension and case changes. To date, I would imagine that you have only studied the grammatical cases that reflect static spellings. As striplings move into their respective fields, depending on the ranks they reach, they will be introduced to terms with increasing declensions. This is particularly true for craft titles. The spelling of nineteen-some titles change punctuation and emphasis through promotion and accomplishment of Grand Reviews with the corresponding rise in ranks. The first twelve titles like Ragn'rok reflect the leaders of the Nation's twelve clans. Six of the titles reflect the Magisters of the five guilds, and the last is the title you hold. "

"Each title, you should note, begins with a presumptive case that has no associated punctuation and is used primarily for reporting purposes - where a potential candidate may be considered for a given investment path, but has not yet been approved for the path. For example, before your first review by the Coronae Magister Magia, when your accounts were being put forward for consideration, your presumptive title would have been..." Clearing a temp-tablet, Healer Mensetcorpor paused to write the title, Riganok, without fangs (or apostrophes, as the humans called the hanging punctuation marks) or missing vowels, and turned the tablet to the boy. 

"In essence, you were an untested candidate. On your first annual review following the assignment of the presumptive title, by passing the annual review, you earned your first declension, noted by the addition of a fang at the end of the first syllable before the second toothless sound..." the healer paused, thinking over humans' predilection for choosing such odd titles that had no relation to the words use - like vowels for their toothless sounds. ~~~The sounds have nothing to do with vows, of any sort~~~ ... at least not as far as he'd ever discovered. Setting the curious trait aside, though, the healer paused to give the child a moment to contemplate how his title had already risen by two declensions. 

When he was certain that he had the child's attention again, Healer Mensetcorpor continued, "In the normal course of matters - if your first formal appearance before Grand Review auditors had not been forced forward by challenge - and you had continued your associations with Gringotts, you would have been called to stand at the first Grand Review following your Quarter-life celebration." Pausing to write the child's title twice more on the tablet, with the fang shifts - from Rig'anok to Riga'nok, he continued: "On passing your first Grand Review, the emphasis and pronunciation shifts, as you noticed, from the end of the first syllable before the second toothless sound to after the second toothless sound. The Quarter Life grand review is the only formal annual review dictated solely by age. The titles of clan leaders follow a similar progression; although, presumptive clan titles are not generally awarded until the potential candidates pass their Quarter-Life Grand Reviews, outside of extraordinary acts of valor in battle that are recognized by majority vote of the Nations Guild of Commanders. For both Clan and Royal titles, after achieving their first declension of titles, any candidate may be called to stand at any formal annual review or Grand Review cycle by consensus of the Nation's high auditors, and automatically at the Grand Review immediately following a great conflict, the death of a higher ranked potential clan leader (or crown candidate if there were one), but absolutely no later than the first Grand Review following their Half-Life celebration.”

“As candidates for these positions pass through each level of review -successfully- the fanged punctuation of their title moves through their positions around the toothless sounds of that title. So that the declension of your current title beginning with the unemphasized Riganok to Rig'anok, Riga'nok, Rigan'ok, and Rigano'k with the emphasis changing to the bitten sound (consonants ~~~ human's naming conventions were just odd ~~~) closest to the fang in each change. Reaching the fang's last station, usually equates to the successful passage of a candidates' fourth Grand Review and the rank of a Vice President of any clan. Any review there after will use that declension unless and until you are acknowledged as the primary presumptive crown, which begins a secondary pattern of conjugation denoted by the dropping of the first then second toothless sounds in the title. There are ranks of course between these levels, but no others that affect the declension of your titles, until the lst and final rank of your title is attained or denied. "

Watching the child mull through the rather in-depth explanation of titles, with amusement, Healer Mensetcorpor cast a second scan over the young Riga'nok to verify the progress of the initial skelegrow potions he'd given the child, frowning slightly as the yttrium blocked his scans. Healer Curseseal had indicated that it might happened so long as magic deemed the child's system to be of additional support, but it did not make the task of diagnosing his injuries easier. From what he could verify, however, it appeared the child's ribs were healing properly and quickly, so he moved on to casting other spells over the frame to double check that no illnesses or weaknesses appeared to be developing either from the excess of training the child was being put through - admittedly necessary ~~~ but that didn't mean that Healer Mensetcorpor necessarily approved ~~~ or the continued separation from the entity ... soulshard... that the Riga'nok had adopted. 

He still had to shake his head at that one. Manager Griphook had certainly filled his coinsack on that wager, all because the child had proven more goblin than anyone had expected him to be. Thankfully, Mensetcorpor had elected not to take his brother and Griphook's wager on whether the child would take the affinity test, much less pass the gloves appraisal as he had. While not believing that the child had any possibility of passing, he had already lost a significant wager to the manager far too close to the closing of the review cycle and was not willing to lose another on top of it, which he clearly would have. 

ブレンキン

Harry had just finished drawing his yttrium mail and gloves back inside himself -once Healer Curseseal was satisfied that he had been healed enough to no longer need the ore's additional support - and was re-dressing when an unfamiliar gravely-voice drew his attention, "Oh, excellent. I see I'm not too late."

"Master…" Healer Mensetcorpor began but cut off immediately with a barely noticeable grimace as he slid out of his chair to kneel, with Harry following barely a moment behind him, bowing lowly in silent obeisance as he assumed was appropriate to any dignitary whom a master healer would feel the need to kneel to.

"Oh, don't mind him," the dignitary answered, directing his comment to Harry as he explained, "Healers and I have a conflicting relationship, almost on the edge of what you might call a love/hate relationship. … Tell me, Child, I am known by many names, and many of those whom I have touched know me by a particular name, even when they are not particularly aware of their knowledge until asked; by what name would you know me?"

Not entirely certain what the appropriate response was, Harry held his position waiting for a cue from the healer in lieu of his absent managers, but risked the slight impropriety of glancing up - in order to avoid the greater offense of not answering a question put too him by a notable guest of the bank. 

The Master, at least Harry assumed from the Master Healer's aborted greeting, appeared human, elderly, with a skeletally-thin, almost-emaciated build; pale and desiccated-looking skin; thin, almost-to-the-point-of-balding, but still gleaming black hair that arched in high widow-peaks before hanging almost to his shoulders in a manner very reminiscent of the mid-1960's; pin-point, sharp deep-set eyes; and the very unexpected attire outdated attire of a muggle business suit with widely-set pinstripes against an unfamiliar fabric. The most amazing aspect of his appearance, to Harry at least, was that while he did not visually recognize the man --in any way -- and was certain that he had not seen the man either at Gringotts or earlier at the Dursleys -- he did know him ... and his name:

"Master Shibou-Yuki. The name I know you by is Master Shibou-Yuki."

"Interesting..." The dignitary murmured, and Harry could feel the elder's eyes sharpening as they studied him while he lowered his head back to the appropriate bow. 

"Oh, do get up. A bit of reasonable humility - appropriate to the circumstances is all I expect, more gets tiresome… quickly. "

Even as Healer Mensetcorpor was gesturing for him to do so, Harry was rising - not wanting to show disrespect by his refusal. 

"Much better, Healer, I do believe you have finished with Harry?"

"Yes, Master… Shibou-Yuki," Harry wasn't entirely surprised by the healer's pause as the name that Harry had addressed the dignitary by sounded unfamiliar on the Healer's tongue, but Master Shibou-Yuki had mentioned that he was known by many names, so it was only to be expected that the healer might use a different name before he. "We've finished."

"Very good. Then we'll leave you to it. Harry, walk with me."

"Yes, Master Shibou-Yuki," Harry finished buttoning his outer robe as he moved to join the dignitary. 

"Oh, let's do dispense with the use of Master between you and I, shall we?" Master Shibou-Yuki chastised lightly, gesturing for Harry to lead the way.

"Of course, Sir. Do you have a preferred title?"

"Shibou-Yuki is fine."

"Of course, Sir. Is there anywhere you would like to visit?" Harry asked uncertainty. While he had joined his managers on walks before, it had always been previously on their direction and coinciding with rounds and duties they were seeing-to as they spoke with him. 

"Your managers and I have finished our conversation, giving me, much to think about. Before I return to my duties, however, I wish to make my own appraisal. Take me somewhere we can speak with a modicum of privacy. "

"May I offer you repast and refreshments in the wards' suite, Sir? Any wards in residence should be at their duties." 

"That would be fine; it has been nearly a month since I've enjoyed goblin hospitality." Shibou-Yuki answered, sounding mildly-amused as he gestured Harry ahead of himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: 'If Harry can't go to Samara, Samara will come to Harry' or 'Death Does an Appraisal'


	2. An Appointment in Samara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or... Death comes to Dinner.

Studying Lord Rishard Fisher-Watson-Potter's pensive expression, Lady Hermione Armistad-Granger laid a hand across the back of Heir Zabini's hand to pause his recitation and catch his attention as she glanced at Rishard. The glance was enough to explain why she was ending the session and initialing his journal for the tutoring session. 

Rishard had been distracted and pensive since Defense Master Thornbrow had come to the school and collected Harry to give some sort of testimony for an official review of his mentor's accounts, which didn't quite make sense to Hermione - especially when the goblin had instructed Harry to don his duelling robes. ~~~Why would someone need duelling robes to testify about someone's accounts?~~~ 

Although he hadn't said anything to the effect, Hermione was almost certain that he was worried about his brother and needed a distraction. Blaise smiled his understanding and gestured with a distinctly non-goblin, finger-walking gesture for her 'toddle along now', and Hermione couldn't help but find it just a little bit funny that she was already able to tell the difference between goblin and non-goblin hand gestures just from just watching her housemates. 

"Rishard? If you have a few moments, could I possibly ask you a question… while Harry is otherwise occupied?" By including Harry in her question, Hermione was pretty sure that she would get him to follow up, if only to find out what she wanted to ask that was particularly contingent on Harry being absent. From what she had seen of the two brothers, while they were intensely protective of others - as had been seen in their numerous interventions between the school's bullies and their victims, regardless of house - it was particularly true with regards to each other. 

Thankfully, she actually did have a question that would fit the bill - hopefully without seeming like too much of an intentional distraction. 

That didn't mean she didn't feel more than a bit nervous when he turned to stare at her with a raised-eyebrow and a distinctly-unamused expression, without answering. 

"You know," she sighed, though tried to keep a mostly wry smile as she continued, "It's entirely unfair that you can make me feel like I'm sitting in front of the principal of my last school - when were the same age." 

"If you are feeling guilty or intimidated," Rishard retorted, sounding stiff enough that it made her wince, as he continued, "you might want to reconsider the wisdom of your questions ... in the future. I'm afraid that you have quite committed yourself to both asking and the consequences of asking your current question." 

"See, you even sound like him!" Hermione protested lightly, "I mean you don't sound like an eleven year-old." 

"I see no need to," he answered, "but I doubt that was what you were actually intending to discuss." 

"No, you're right," Hermione agreed. "I don't think it's a bad question per se, but… Harry seems a little touchy about your guardians, and I don't want him or anyone else to think that I'm disparaging them or want to disparage them; I don't. At the same time, though, I feel like the way the thinks about things is fundamentally different than how I think about things, not better or worse, but almost like when we talk about things we're using two different languages both disguised as English… And I don't think I always understand- even when we're saying the same things about the same things… almost like we're using different grammar rules or definitions. Neville, Blaise, and Draco can usually clue me in a bit, but I get the feeling that they don't always understand what he's getting at either. I was hoping that, I don't know, maybe you could give me some insight? Something to help me know when I'm at least asking the right question?" Hermione asked hopefully, remembering the in-depth lecture she'd gotten from Hibby, the scolding from the Coronae Magister Magia, and the two or three times she thought she had brought Harry almost to the edge of an argument - discussing assignment questions no less. 

Hermione hadn't realized that she had broken out of the proper posture she had been trying to adopt and practice nearly every waking moment as she asked and was leaning forward almost wringing her hands. She really was thoroughly enjoying her housemates and studies and wanted to get along, but not at the cost of curtailing her learning about and understanding her new world and new abilities… in every way she possibly could - even arguing with Harry until she could untwist and unravel every sentence of every argument they got into until she had her own Harry Potter glossary. 

A choked off laugh and a hand squeezing her wringing hands broke her out of her musings and brought her back to the present - to see Rishard smiling at her with an almost-there smile. 

"I understand what you're getting at, and to an extent I think you're right, but until now, you've been going about it the wrong way. Harry's spent almost six years at Gringotts and in the Goblin community - where arguments simply do not happen. There are rivalries, opposing points of view, and families with long-standing grudges, but the nation has evolved into a society that avoids internal conflict by focusing on productivity and profitability to the nation as their highest goal. Families in contention invest in the plans that they would promote, and the nation chooses the routes that offer the highest long term profitability, or if they are similarly profitable will support the aspects of each that don't undermine the profitability of any other active projects. Actual arguing is not only viewed as socially offensive and counter to the productivity of the unit, department, or branch - but also as investment of the time taken by the conflict into actions with negative profitability… something that is across the board mentally and emotionally repugnant to the goblins who are taught from their earliest lessons that an investment of time is of equal or greater importance than a direct financial investment." 

"So by arguing with Harry, I have been dragging him into something he considers repugnant?" 

"Harry's a little harder to drag than that. He will not allow you to drag him into an argument any more than he has allowed the headmaster to do so. That said, an attempt to learn the principles that guide Harry's actions would be far more likely to help you understand his positions than trying to challenge him to convince you and build some sort of index of arguments as a guide." 

"Oh, that does make sense." Hermione answered thinking it really should have been obvious, if only from watching Harry repeatedly shut down the headmaster. "Do you think he would be willing to teach me about the… I don't know the social mores he's learned?" 

"I'm sure he would be pleased to do so," Rishard answered, but held up a hand as Hermione felt the beginnings of an excited smile creeping to her lips, "however, given the time that we have to spend in studies, the amount of time that Harry also spends with the wards under his charge, and the amount of time spent in maintaining house accounts, his time may be limited to do so." 

Hermione nodded a bit glumly acknowledging the comment. They hadn't been housemates very long, but she would have to have deaf, dumb, blind, and insensate not to have realized that Harry had the most responsibilities and time commitments out of any of them. To her surprise, though, Rishard's smile softened, and Hermione suddenly felt a blush rise as she realized that he was still holding her clasped hands from when he'd stopped their wringing. 

"However, if you are not adverse to it, you might consider scheduling time with Hibby, as he was Harry's initial instructor in Gringotts' protocols." 

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione answered, realizing that she was practically gushing, but the idea was so great: now that she knew the elves histories, she could imagine volumes and volumes that she could learn from the Elves, who always seemed to be looking for extra to do, and it had the added benefit of giving them something to do that wasn’t just scullery work.

“I will speak with him right away.” She commented taken with the idea and starting to rise only to stop when she realized he hadn’t let go of her hands, yet. When she looked up, he was practically grinning… well, it wasn’t really a grin, but a much wider smile than she was use to seeing from him, and she suspected he was close to laughing at her. 

“By the way,” Rishard commented with clear amusement, “While your etiquette and bearing have already shown great improvements, might I suggest that you speak with Millicent or Draco regarding how to tailor your actions with a bit more subtlety? Blaise is improving in the skill, but Millicent and Draco are quite a bit more proficient… or at least Draco is when his emotions don’t get away from him, so Millicent would be your better advisor.” 

”What?” Hermione was caught off guard by what seemed on its surface at best a back-handed compliment, though she was pleased to hear that her efforts to fit more into the wizarding version of ‘polite society’ were showing some success. 

“Given your choice to take up the mantle of Lady Armistad-Ravenclaw, you will at some point be required to learn the gamenkraft of Politics, which is best learned young, and subtlety is one of the craft’s most essential and powerful skills, and a skill that I believe you have the wit to employ.” Rishard offered, seeming to enjoy making her blush. 

“Why, thank you.” Hermione answered, not quite sure what to say, “but may I ask what brought this up?” 

“Your attempt to distract me from worrying about my brother.” Rishard answered with a slightly raised eyebrow, as if he felt she should have already realised this and was wondering why she hadn’t, which yes, she probably should have… and probably would have if she weren’t so distracted by the fact that he was still holding her hand, which he seemed to realize himself a moment later, probably following her gaze, and immediately letting go of her hand. 

“While it is kind of you and appreciated, it could hardly have been less subtle.” 

“Oh,” She winced, but pushed her embarrassment aside and asked, “What did I do wrong?” 

He was right; Hermione had decided to stay in the magical world and dedicate herself to her magical studies in hopes of achieving the Ravenclaw inheritance as well as the Armistad, though, she hadn’t made any kind of announcement to the house or told anyone else - either, outside of her parents, whom she had written almost immediately after her conversation with Professor Snape. The question he had put to her had been exactly the question she had needed to hear and decide for herself: namely, that once knowing and experiencing magic for herself, could she have given it up and lived completely without magic- as would have been required under the Statute of Secrecy - if she had elected quit her studies and go back to the Muggle world. The answer had been a resounding ‘No’, which her parents had been surprisingly supportive of when she hadn’t expected them to be. 

“Well, aside from the fact that you had been surreptitiously watching me for roughly thirty-five minutes, barely listening to Blaise, and abruptly ended the session with a glance that directed his attention to me...I’m not certain what my first clue might have been. Perhaps, your concerned expression or the nervous energy that you felt the need to expend by twisting your hands back and forth; although, your question did successfully catch my attention even if it’s wording left a bit of ambiguity to misinterpret your intent. “ 

“Ouch,” Hermione sighed, “Was there anything I did right?” 

“Well, as I said, your manner of phrasing your question did catch my attention, and choosing a question regarding something that my attention was clearly focused on - Harry, did reinforce the likelihood that I would listen… and you tried sincerely with no apparent motive. In many instances, awkwardness and lack of subtlety will be forgiven when actions are genuine and seem motive-less. It is better, of course, not to need forgiveness.” While his expression had returned to his usual stoic ~~~ can an 11 year-old be called stoic ~~~ expression, Hermione suspected that Rishard was teasing her lightly. 

“Well, thank you, and my apologies for being so obvious.” She retorted, hoping he could tell she was teasing as well. 

“Of course, you are forgiven. Genuine concern is almost always forgivable… and sometimes even appreciated. Now, I believe you have an appointment to make with Hibby.” 

~~~ Well, I’m just going to take that as a thank you.~~~ Hermione decided, studying his face for amusement or seriousness but whatever he was feeling was hidden behind his stoic ‘mask’, which … yes, she had already started discussing the things she would need to do to fit in with ‘polite’/pureblood society with Millicent and knew she would need to develop a variety of formal expressions or ‘masks’ to disguise her personal feelings about some of the people she would be required to interact with; they had apparently not gotten as far as subtlety, yet. Hermione couldn’t blame Millicent for that though. Just the etiquette lessons alone were a lot to cover including elocution, traditions, and culture which seemed to refine etiquette even further than the general rules in sometimes confounding ways. 

It was a dismissal, though, and she realized it, so stood as gracefully as she could and offered the ‘parting nod’ (~~~ and really it boggled the mind that there was a specific nod for the specific purpose of parting from a closer friend or a more distant family member that expressed that the person giving it would be leaving them without saying anything more. Seriously… boggled the mind.~~~) before leaving him to wait for Harry while she looked for Hibby. 

ブレンキン

Nodding to Hibby as the elf finished grinding the fenugreek leaves to a fine paste, Harry lifted the whisk for Hibby to pour the paste into the cicely-root batter. As soon as the two touched, he quickly whipped it until it was light and fluffy before handing it off to Hibby to dip the scrota in before putting them into the hot oil bath. While Harry had ‘long ago’ learned how to fry foods, at his relatives, he knew that fact disturbed Hibby, and it was just easier to let Hibby have his way dealing with ‘such dangerous cooking’ as the elf called it (much preferring oven and stone baking), while he went on to work on something else - especially when there was a guest waiting. In this case, he still had the fennel, fenugreek, perilla, and krachai salad to plate, and top with elvesapples and sun rose petals. The bael fruit and ginger sides were ready to be served on the fresh perilla leaves, and the blood soup was poured and cooling in inobtrusive small cups. (While his guest, Shibou-Yuki, had mentioned enjoying ‘goblin’ hospitality within the last month and was clearly a notable client or associate of the bank, so highly respected as to be given unescorted access to the bank, that did not necessarily imply that he would enjoy or appreciate blood soup).

The only thing left was to cut the small blocks of Rogue River Blue and Lord of the Hundreds cheeses and for the walnut cheese and scrota plate. He was just finishing them as Hibby finished blotting the fried scrota and plating them. After adding the finishing touches, Harry placed them on the trays, murmured his thanks to Hibby, and smiled as the elf shooed them toward the door. 

“Master Shibou-Yuki, please accept my humble hospitality in gratitude for your presence in my home.” Harry offered with a slight bow as he laid out their dishes setting out Shibou-Yuki’s first before his own then sitting as Shibou-Yuki gestured his permission with a small familiar wave of finger, his hand-gesture telling it’s own tale of the Master’s familiarity with goblin’s ways. They ate mostly in silence, passing the time with the small customary gestures between guests and hosts until Shibou-Yuki finally blotted the light stain of blood soup from his lips and folded the napkin he’d been given in the closed dove shape signalling that he wished the meal to be finished. While Harry had actually finished several minutes earlier, he had left a small block of the Rogue River Blue cheese and a walnut to the side of his plate as it was considered rude by the goblins for underlings to finish before their superiors and give the impression of waiting for the superior to finish, and promptly popped the two into his mouth, chewing them quickly as he folded his napkin as well. 

“Did you make the meal yourself?” Shibou-Yuki asked, seeming curious. 

“Only in part, my bonded elf, Hibby assisted with preparing the blood soup, fenugreek, and the frying,” Harry offered, hoping that he was sharing the credit for the meal instead of the blame if Shibou-Yuki didn’t like the meal he had served. 

”Then, I must ask that the next time I can visit with sufficient advance notice, the two of you make another such meal. While I quite enjoy traditional goblin fare, the ‘human touchs’ you have added made for a truly unique and enjoyable interpretation that I could almost be convinced to put aside other business for another such meal, were I not under time constraints.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” Harry answered truly pleased that his offering had been successful. 

“You are a truly unusual child.” Shibou-Yuki offered with a thin, goblin-like smile of near-approval, “If I did not know that - in addition to some variation of my name, the other … shall we call them ‘former-candidates’ for your position have also known my nature and the essence of who I am - I would believe you did not as I have not seen a glimpse of fear or anxiety in your behavior nor any sense of arrogance or being too foolish to recognize my nature. How do you explain this?” 

Harry wasn’t quite certain, not knowing how the other Riga’noks might have reacted, but he thought he could - at least- explain the reason he didn’t fear his 'guest'. While he had been thinking of Shibou-Yuki as a ‘notable’ associate of the bank, somewhere - in the depths of his unconscious - he had recognized Shibou-Yuki and what his nature was. 

“Death…” he agreed with the first part of Shibou-Yuki’s assertion, before explaining, “I have recently begun training as a novice galleonclaw and been given access to the memories of several Galleonclaw Masters, some of whom have shared their experiences of your ... interactions in the mortal world. I don’t know if it’s quite accurate to say I don’t fear your judgment, more that I recognize the … futility of being afraid of it or trying to run from it ... and the implacability of it when it comes to pass…”

“If their lessons are correct, all mortals die at a specifically-designated time, regardless of anything we would try to do otherwise. If it’s someone’s time to die, he or she will die, and, again if their lessons are correct, you oversee that process, possibly selecting the manner of death, although that point has seemed a bit ambiguous to me. Your presence or involvement means he or she will die - plain and simple. I’ve spoken to some of the ghosts with accounts at Gringotts -being held in trust for their heirs- who have told me that what they remember of their own deaths was that death was a cessation of their life, ending their pain if they were in pain and simply separating them from their bodies if not. I don’t want to die right now, but if it’s my time to, it doesn’t really matter what I want; it’s going to happen whether I fight or not, and if it is just a cessation well - irony intended - I guess I can live with that, it’s just a waste of time and energy to be frightened.” 

“As I said, a truly unusual child,” Shibou-Yuki smiled, “There are a pair of brothers in the United States, I should introduce you to; they would benefit from your sense of …. pragmatism. So before I begin, do you have any questions for me? Any family or friends you’d like me to bring back from beyond? Any boons of immunity from my future visit that you’d like to request?” 

The question surprised Harry, as much as it didn’t make sense. If the memories of his ‘teachers’ had been correct, someone died when they were meant to die; no matter how much he might have wanted to be with his parents when he was a small child, trapped at the Dursley, it didn't give him any right to ask for them to be brought back past their ‘appointed time’ nor to postpone his own time or a friend's time. Admittedly, he had sort of postponed Rishard’s time, but that didn’t feel like it had been the same. He hoped it hadn’t been… and didn’t think it would have worked if it hadn’t been meant to, but he probably should find out. 

“Er... “ Harry ducked his head, embarrassed at the sudden nervousness that cropped up, “What I did with Rishard? The golem-thing, did I break any rules by doing that?” 

Shibou-Yuki seemed just as surprised as Harry when he laughed and hid his amused smile behind his fingertips.

“Very good, and no. What you did, in bringing your bond-brother back from being a soul-shard doesn’t break my rules. The first rule you should know is that everything dies, even those that believe themselves to be immortal. Second, I decide how death operates and long ago wrote the rules by which all reapers abide. Third, while there are temporary means that mortals may use to step outside of death, none have yet cheated death, merely used and miss-used the means that I allowed to step outside of the cycle before their appointed times, but they too ultimately die at their - as you called it - designated time. Fourth, all of the methods of stepping out of the cycle require a sacrifice of some form or other; those like ‘golem’, not the ‘golem-thing’, " he corrected with a raised eyebrow, "that you used -where the sacrifice of life and magic was of your own blood and magic (as the the willing caster) and Rishard's risking the possible loss of his soul (as the willing soul whose life is being prolonged) - are acceptable and permitted in my eyes - so long as the recipient has not reached that designated time. The methods used by his previous persona where the sacrifice is forced on another or by an unwilling or coerced caster, while writ by my hand, require much greater cost to teach that being a much-needed lesson before he or she can move forward. Fifth, death cannot play favorites, it doesn’t matter whether they are cherished or not, one’s appointed time is one’s appointed time, regardless of how attached we may have become to them.“ 

Harry listened intently, deciding that Shibou-Yuki had become involved both as a result of his acceptance into the ranks of the GalleonClaws who, in needed instances, acted as the Nation’s assassins and his involvement with the Gavra Magister, and that -either in his role as Riga’nok or GalleonClaw- he would be accountable under Death’s rules as well as the other rules he’d learned. Probably the latter. 

“Sixth, death may not be denied, even for the smallest increment of time to increase suffering. Seventh, in contrast, if the being has not reached his or her appointed time, but wishes for an early death to end suffering - it may be provided. Eighth, the suggestion of such a death may not be made to prompt an early end for any reason other than relieving the suffering of that individual and that individual alone. Ninth, I am the final arbiter of these rules, and Tenth, any who would attempt to break them will face very undesirable consequences - which are very much worth fearing and avoiding. But on to more pleasant matters, I have a present for you.” 

Dismissing the slight chill and shiver that Shibou-Yuki’s words had prompted, Harry gestured his understanding and gratitude, feeling certain that Death would understand both his silence and his gestures, given his earlier use of similar gestures himself. 

Despite knowing his guest to be Death, Harry still gaped as the being turned his long pale fingers over from his last gesture, accepting Harry’s gratitude for the gift, to display a long metal wedge that had not been there even a millisecond before, without any whisper of a spell being used or visual ripple that usually accompanied wandless magic. 

“This is a tessen,” Shibou-Yuki explained. “Have you seen one before? …No? Very well, I find anecdotes to be the best instructors; and there is a tale I know that will give you some idea of this particular tessen's power, and after, I suggest that you request the memories of the Galleonclaw Soujoubou of Mount Kurama in Kyoto. There is a great deal more for you to learn about its use than I currently have time to explain, but one story, I can make time for.” 

Handing the fan to Harry with a gesture to keep it closed, Shibou-Yuki began, “In the twelfth century of the current age, in the Soujougatani valley near the Kibune Shrine, the ninth child of Minamoto clan was sent to the shrine after his father and brothers were killed in a rebellion as his mother feared he would be drawn into the rebellion and killed as well. However, Ushiwakamaru was no monk, and abandoned the shrine to with plans of learning how to fight and avenge his father. At ten years of age, however the child was ill-prepared to handle the wilds of Mount Kurama, and in desperation, followed in the path of one he believed to be an elderly man walking at a distance. Sensing the child’s presence behind him, Soujoubou allowed the child to follow him back to the entrances of Clan Kurama’s enclosures - rather than frightening the child, who would have been terrified had he realized he was following a Tengu (the name his people used for goblins). Once the child had reached warmth and shelter, Soujoubou carrying the fan you now hold turned…” 

Harry listened avidly as Shibou-Yuki told how the Galleonclaw entranced and tamed the child, with the fan - bewitching and taming the child long enough to convince young Ushiwakamaru of Soujoubou's intentions before going on to instruct him in their ways, swordsmanship, crafts, and magics before the child eventually left to become one of the GalleonClaws of his own people, called Samurai, and taking the name Minomoto No Yoshitsune. 

Harry was so enraptured with the story about the fan: the seven bladed fan, that had once been the powerful weapon Manwë Vastra before it had been gifted to the thunderbird OeRama, who in turn harnessed its powers in the forge of its flames and gave it the additional ability to take the harmless appearing form of seven bladed-fan with each blade resembling its feathers and gifted it to Soujoubou after the goblin risked life and limb to protect OeRama's egg from the assault of a horde of Oni (trolls)... that he didn’t realize until his eyes dropped closed as he had heard Shibou-Yuki promising, in an amused tone, that he would be seeing Harry again, that just a moment earlier, he’d heard the man whisper the beginnings of the sleeping charm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Harry returns home, and Rishard has a problem he doesn't know how to deal with.


	3. Out of One's Depth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, seventy years of life experience doesn't give you all the answers.

Grateful to finally get settled in his bed, after returning to Hogwarts and dealing with the … alarmed, to put it mildly, reactions of the other heirs and heiresses to his rather somewhat bruised and unsteady state when he returned through the floo to their dorms, Harry sat back against the pillows Hibby had almost forced behind him - despite his many assertions that he was feeling fine, if a little achy, and watched Rishard pace. This was new and unexpected behavior from his adopted ‘brother’, and Harry wasn’t entirely certain how to deal with it. If it had been Draco, well that he knew how to handle, but Rishard was a different matter entirely. 

Still, when he realized that he had endured his brother’s constant pacing for almost an hour, Harry finally spoke up, “Rishard, something’s clearly on your mind. If you’d like to talk about it… I can at least listen.” 

Given that Rishard’s previous life had given him decades more experience than Harry, Harry didn’t think that there would be any advice or insight that he could offer that his brother wouldn’t be aware of, but he could at least provide a sounding board. “Did something happen while I was at the review?” 

When Rishard turned to stare at him, it was with an expression he didn’t expect to see, Rishard’s gaze was confused and seemed almost lost… after an hour’s worth of pensive pacing, which Harry would have assumed would have been more than enough time to come to some sort of conclusion or decision in regards to what was bothering him. 

“Yes… well… no, there wasn’t an incident, but something has happened… something has… I have… I have changed and I don’t understand it. It’s not just coming back here. I am not a child, despite my appearance, I shouldn’t… I didn’t feel this even when I was a child. This… ... Gahhh … this is infuriating. I cannot even describe what has changed, but it has. It clearly has.” He growled stopping in his pacing and turning back to face Harry as if he expected him to have the answers before Harry even really understood what was going on. 

“Do you think it has something to do with the… ritual?” Harry asked, knowing Rishard would understand that he was referring to the resurrection ritual though he wasn’t willing to state anything about it on Hogwarts grounds, no matter how many privacy wards, oaths, and protections they had in place. He had no intention of giving the Headmaster any information that could endanger Rishard. 

Rishard paused at the question, seeming to stare through the wall before shaking his head and answering, “No, there was a slight change after, but not like this. This is… no … it wasn’t that.” 

“Well, if you can’t describe what the change is, can you tell me any examples of how it has manifested, maybe there’s something in common that you are too close to the matter to see, or … possibly being prevented from seeing.” 

To Harry’s astonishment, Rishard almost tripped a step as he again stopped and was visibly blushing as he faced Harry, clearly hesitating to speak. 

“I won’t tell anyone of it.” He promised, but Rishard dismissed the concern with a gesture. 

“No, it’s … the incidents will not sound like anything to you without reference to how I was when I was here before.” 

“Well, you can explain any background needed if I don’t, but possibly, it’s that reference that’s keeping you from seeing what’s going on.” Neville was a lot like that, getting caught up in past frustrations that prevented him from seeing sometimes simple solutions to present issues. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Would it hurt anything to tell me?” Harry asked hopefully. He knew it was a lot to ask for, but was hoping that between the years they had spent joined, their time at Gringotts, and the adoption, that Rishard would come to realize that Harry would try to help and support him as much as he could. 

“I… No… Though, I do not believe it will help anything either.” 

“Perhaps not, I can’t promise to have anything to offer, but maybe just saying it out loud will help you figure it out.” 

Rishard nodded, if reluctantly, before offering, “While you were gone, I worried about your welfare; I could have remained in my rooms and read texts appropriate to my knowledge, but felt the need to go downstairs and study in the company of our housemates - even though it meant I had to read and study materials beneath me; I practically ‘chatted’ with Susan about her aunt’s comments on the last Wizengamot session; and …” 

“And,” Harry prompted after Rishard was silent for several seconds, clearly having difficulty admitting to the last instance. 

“And,” Rishard sighed, “I practically held hands with Hermione, when she tried to cheer me up. The child has no concept of subtlety, by the way.” Rishard finished as if he had to find some critique against Hermione because he felt awkward about their interaction. 

“Hmmm.” Harry didn’t bother to ask whether Rishard was attracted to Hermione, not because of the whole halfblood/pureblood; Hermione’s speech and Rishard’s own reading on that point had seemed to solve the matter for him. Nor on the age difference, as the wizarding world still held it acceptable to have arranged marriages between partners of vastly different ages. Instead, Harry had noticed, but of course not mentioned, that he’d noticed on several different occasions Rishard casting appreciative glances over some of the more ‘fit’ male employees at Gringotts. 

“Hmmm? Is that all you have to say?” Rishard demanded, in frustration, clearly having expected Harry to have the answer, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder when he’d taken that role with respect to Rishard. Nevertheless, if that was what Rishard expected, the least he could do was try. Holding up his hand to forestall another question from Rishard, Harry thought about the examples that Rishard had given them and tried to put them into the context of his brother’s previous life as Voldemort. 

All of the examples Rishard mentioned, seemed to relate to feeling friendship or wanting and expressing companionship, and it didn’t surprise him at all that Voldemort would not have particularly valued those feelings, but to not have felt them - at all it seemed- when he had first come to Hogwarts? Well, maybe that explained a lot… but from the very beginning? There was something in that thought that caught and held his attention. The very beginning…. The very beginning of Hogwarts. Rishard had told him something … something about his starting at Hogwarts that he had only learned when he was sorted to the House of Lords…~~~ Sorted… the sorting hat ~~~ 

Rishard almost jolted when Harry set up, staring at him expectantly, but instead of answering his impatient demand of “What?”, Harry called for Fawkes, smiling when the phoenix immediately appeared. 

“Fawkes, could you ask if the sorting hat, if it’s free to speak to us about something it mentioned to my brother?” 

Almost before he had finished his sentence, Fawkes flashed out, returning with the sorting hat in its beak as Rishard dropped into a nearby chair, looking almost dumbstruck. 

“Hello, Little Lords,” the sorting hat greeted them with an amused tone. “You have some questions.” 

Harry cast a questioning glance at Rishard, wondering if his brother needed him to ask, but Rishard was staring at the hat, his mouth working slightly as if he was trying to work up to speaking, so Harry sat by silently. 

“I … I haven’t been acting or feeling like … myself today. Would you know why?” 

“Actually, it is probably more accurate to say you’ve been acting more like ‘yourself’ than you are used to, Rishard. As I told you at the sorting, the first time you were sorted, the bit of me that is from Lady Ravenclaw saw the state you were in and that to survive you had been required to lock a part of yourself away and grow up far too quickly. While she doesn’t have her full abilities to see what will come, she could see some possible outcomes and knew that if we didn’t protect that small part of you, it would be lost forever, so she used the small rip that had already happened to release it. We held it in trust for you, and have been so very happy that we could return it to you.” 

“I don’t understand,” Rishard answered almost plaintively, “What part would make me feel and act the way I have? Why did it need to be taken away?” 

“The part that we held in trust for you is a portion of what the muggles call your id, though, they have only an incomplete understanding of it as to the way it manifests in magical born. Basically, it is the part of your core that is affected by your most primal needs and desires, including the need for safety, belonging, companionship, trust, and emotional stability and in magical born a part that connects and powers accidental magic. As to why we needed to protect it, while the part that is from Lady Ravenclaw was not able to see what events would cause its destruction, she very clearly saw a preponderance of outcomes where your id was decimated, warping you even more than the shell of the person still known as Voldemort. While it may be difficult for you to believe, it had been possible for you to have become even more warped, and we had to protect you from that.” 

Rishard stared at the hat both disturbed and somewhat relieved, before murmuring an awed sounding, “Thank you,” and turning back to Harry to explain, “I - I need to go and think about this.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, trying to offer a reassuring smile, as Rishard rushed out the door, before turning back to Fawkes and the sorting hat.

“It is good that you brought him here,” the sorting hat offered, “As much as you and your housemates need to learn and advance your abilities in magic, he needs to learn how to cope with being accepted and belonging… and being human. He needs this.” 

And, of course, before Harry could offer any kind of thanks or response, Fawkes and the hat flashed back out. They seemed to like doing that. 


	4. Plans and Preparations

"Okay," Neville began, before pausing to clear his throat, "Okay, this may seem obvious, but the first thing you want to do when you're taking your notes about any potion is to look at the list of ingredients and look each one up. The reason for that is that you don't just need to know what the ingredients will do when you put them together, but most of the ingredients you use will have special characteristics that affect your choice of the containers you use, the tools you prepare them with, and what type of hand, eye, and nose protection you use…" 

"Nose protection?!? Oh, please, you're just putting us on." Lady Frobisher scoffed, drawing grimaces - particularly from the Gringotts' heirs, who would never have considered interrupting Neville's segment of the study session, much less to scoff. Asking questions afterward was fine, but wasting the group's time with rude and unnecessary comments would have seen them ejected from a study group at Gringotts. 

"Do feel free, Lady Frobisher, to neglect the caution," Professor Snape began, causing Neville wince in embarrassment at being overridden, until the professor continued, "I always draw a great deal of amusement from watching students drawn in by the sweet scent of the sopoforus bean drop to the ground asleep. I should warn, though, I will not pick you up no matter how much you may drool, or allow others to break from their brewing to do so. The befuddling draught's effects are most always amusing as well, but not nearly as much as veritaserum's..." 

"Okay, I get it." She announced, interrupting the professor as well, despite the fact that he was taking time out from his schedule to be available for any questions the others couldn't answer. 

"As I'm certain that you would have if you had allowed Lord Longbottom to continue." Professor Snape answered, reproach clear in his tone, before he turned with a nod and a goblin 'please continue' gesture. 

How odd. Neville hadn't realized that the professor was familiar with Gringotts' gestural language. Putting the thought aside, Neville picked the lecture up, grateful for the professor's support. 

"Professor Snape's examples are some of the best for why you need nose protection. The befuddling draught's also an excellent example of the attention you need to pay to skin protection as it requires three different types. While you are preparing the befuddling draught's ingredients, both the scurvy grass and sneezewort are activated by ambient magic, so you need to use gloves of a neutralizing material like calfskin; Lovage is more volatile while brewing than in its natural state - almost to the point of being corrosive - so you will want to change to gloves of a stronger, more impervious material like thestral hide," Neville paused for a millisecond to note Hermione rapidly scribbling down a series of questions that he had no doubt she would be asking for references to later. It was hard not to be amused: the Armistad-Granger heiress had certainly taken the Magister Magia's scolding to heart and had scrupulously abided by the instruction of how to pursue her studies, but that hadn't diminished her wealth of questions by a knut as far he could see - only ensured that they were worthwhile, if not outright challenging. She was studious enough to put a goblin to shame, and that was saying a lot. 

Picking back up, Neville continued, "the completed befuddling draught also has a nature that's strangely magically-sympathetic, or magnetic, if you're familiar with the muggle term," he was hard pressed not to grin as the word 'magnetic' aborted a note Hermione had appeared about to make on the phrase magically sympathetic. "So after decanting the potion, cleaning all of your utensils and protective wear, you will want to use some of the potion detection spells that Draco will go over to ensure you haven't accidentally had any contact absorption and an impervious charm on your skin until you change clothes to prevent later absorption. Trust me, trying to study or navigate the castle on a befuddlement draught is not a good idea. Now, to move on to another example, devil's snare, once it has been processed into an ingredient doesn't have many effects that you have to worry about protecting yourself from - outside of being inedible- but because of it's light sensitivity, you have to take precautions like keeping it in a darkened glass jar, and taking it out of the jar with a thick light blocking cloth that you keep it wrapped up in until you put it in the cauldron. Devil's Snare is also best prepared and measured the night before in a dark room using a mole's-eye charm. Because of this sensitivity, Devil's Snare is usually only prepared in slivers, but it's important to have even thickness, so if you decide to continue brewing after NEWTS there's a cutter you may want to buy. It's a bit pricey but worth it." 

Getting into his subject, Neville went on with his lecture until he had mentioned everything he could think of on taking ingredient notes before turning the session recorder over to Millicent, who was explaining the tools in the standard kit, the safe handling and cleaning instructions, and the items they should owl order that hadn't been included on the Hogwarts' woefully inadequate first year supply list. (An error that Professor Snape had discreetly disavowed responsibility for, noting that he was not the final arbiter of the supply list, which on average contained less than a twelfth of what he requested students buy.) 

Professor Snape, after observing Millicent's segment for several seconds, caught Neville's gaze and silently requested several minutes of his time if he was able to step away from the discussion. Gesturing his acceptance, Neville caught Rishard's eye and quickly signed that he was stepping away with the professor. 

"If you would feel more comfortable, I can cast silencing and privacy charms?" Professor Snape offered. 

"No, Sir, I'm not uncomfortable meeting with you; it's just that -as you know- our house charter is rather strict on private meetings and conversations being supervised either by a head of house or a house elf. I don't think that we actually considered private meetings with heads of house." Neville admitted sheepishly. 

"Well, Lord Longbottom, given the current appointments to the position, I doubt there is any reason to be concerned, but for future appointments, you might wish to consider adding an addendum to the charter to address that point." 

"Yes, Sir, we will. Also, Sir, I would be honored if you would consider using my given name, Neville, when we are not in public or formal settings." 

"Thank you, Neville, I will, and would ask that you do the same: My given name is Severus." 

"Thank you, Sir, I would be honored." Neville agreed, before falling silent for the professor to broach whatever topic he wished to discuss as the took a seat in the small sitting room attached to Neville's bedroom and study area. 

"Very well, Neville, if I may make a suggestion, based on your written work and the practicals that I have observed, I believe it would be a waste not to put your aptitudes in herbology and ingredient-processing to work for you. I should warn you before I even mention this, that there is a good chance that you might not be able to get accepted immediately as you would formally be listed as a first-year, but the Potioner's Guild has a sub-guild devoted to promoting and forwarding the Apothecary Arts, which provides stipends, apprenticeship, and independent-study programs that I am confident that you will soon be able to qualify for if you do not already, and I believe that you will be well-suited too. Unless I am very much mistaken, you would very likely enjoy the programs even if you elect to follow an alternate career path." 

"Thank you for the encouragement and suggestion, Sir. It is deeply appreciated, and as it happens, I have qualified for a self-study and was waiting until Yule to ask if you would consider acting as a proctor and adviser on related potion preparations." 

"My congratulations. That is a notable accomplishment, and yes, I would be exceedingly pleased to act as your adviser. Have you identified your Apothecary Master?" The professor's tone was less questioning and more prompting, so Neville suspected that the professor realized -like Neville did- that his application wouldn't have even been considered if he hadn't already approached and secured Apothecary Master Coalclaw's approval. 

"Yes, Sir, Apothecary Master Coalclaw agreed to advise me, but has deferred proctoring to his second assistant, Goldclaw." When Professor Snape's lip quirked up, Neville almost laughed as he guessed what the professor was going to ask next. 

"I realize that this is totally unprofessional, and you need not answer if you would prefer otherwise, but do you possibly know if it's true whether Goldclaw's claws are stained a yellowish hue from mixing marigold petals up with spiderbane?" 

"I'm sorry, sir, I can not say for certain whether or not that was the cause… despite the fact that his claws are quite the same hue as marigold powder." Neville answered, splitting the difference between discretion and familiarity. It wouldn't do to alienate the professor after the man had just agreed to be his proctor. 

"I understand, very well. Given certain recent events, I would like to propose that we meet again, later this week, after I contact Master Coalclaw to request your lesson prospectus and determine to what extent we can overlap it your coursework. As your entry test satisfied first-year end of term requirements, I see no reason for you not to spend the remaining eight and a half months of your academic year toward completing other academic requirements, so long as you do not let your potions' practice lapse and grow fallow." 

"Wow, thank you!" Neville gasped. He had actually hoped it might be possible before the House of Lords' course plans were laid out, but had almost given up hope on the possibility once he'd realized how much more work the house's curriculum would require from the professor. 

"You are certainly welcome. I believe we had best get back. I am certain that Lady Armistad-Granger will have questions for us." 

"That's a safe bet," Neville agreed, amused. He had seen how Professor Snape had often been equal parts amused and indulgent towards Hermione's questions, so knew the comment had not been meant unkindly. "If I may have a moment longer, though," 

"Of, course." 

"The house is planning a surprise commemoration of Lady Armistad-Granger's birthday on the 19th and would appreciate it if you would attend." 

"Thank you. I would be honored; though, I would not wish to intrude on her celebration simply for courtesy's sake." 

"Oh, no. No, Sir. We will be having a much smaller commemoration at lunch that day -for courtesy's sake- and anticipate that the Headmaster might take the opportunity to say a few words, then, but the remembrance we hope that you will come to is the evening one." 

"Very well, I will certainly mark it on my calendar." 

. "Excellent!" Neville answered, enthused. While it wasn't discussed much, Professor Snape was almost unanimously viewed as the house's favorite professor, although Professor Flitwick was running a close second. Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout were well liked, but not as favored- due, ironically, to same reason in opposite extremes: while Professor McGonagall was a completely hands-off type of head of house, Professor Sprout was almost smothering - especially to the heirs she viewed as orphans - practically driving Harry, Rishard, and himself spare sometimes.By contrast, Professor Snape's and Professor Flitwick's approach -of being more or less hands off, but readily available during study sessions, office hours (set aside specifically for their house), and on weekends- was far more palatable. 

ブレンキン

"Professor Snape said that he'd come," Neville told Susan and Rishard after Blaise, Hermione, Justin, Millicent, and Frobisher left for the library with Tanky and Sala as escorts. 

"Professor Flitwick and Sprout, too. Professor McGonagall has a detention scheduled during the first half, but said she 'hopes to come for the second'." Susan gave him as an update. 

"Who are we inviting to represent the houses?" They knew Hermione wasn't entirely certain of, or comfortable with, how their pureblood-oriented society used even casual social events to build influence and make political statements, as they were doing by not inviting the headmaster to the more private party - especially as it was being held on school grounds... But hoped to help ease her into it, while helping her to start building the strongest foundations she could for doing so on her own agenda. 

"Thomas and Patel from Gryffindor, MacMillan and Appleby from Hufflepuff, Davis and Nott from Slytherin, and from Ravenclaw, Li and Boot; the prefects from each of their houses, and the Head boy and girl." 

"So twenty-four people in addition to the the heads of house, her parents, and her magical guardian?" 

"Yes," Rishard answered with a nod, before pushing the discussion forward. While Hermione could happily spend a week in the library, they did have the time constraint of curfew to adhere to. "What goals do we want to set for the meeting?" 

"A general introduction to polite society," Susan suggested as Draco and Rose returned from the owlery, thanking Hibby for the escort as they initialed the elf's journal. 

"The Hogwarts invites are sent," Draco informed them, leaving it to Rose to finish with, "Ebby is delivering the invitations to Hermione's parents and SilverQuill." 

"Good. We were just discussing the goals that we wish to set for the evening." 

"What about reinforcing that while she's a muggleborn, she's actually from pureblood lines?" Rose supplied. 

"What do you have in mind?" Rishard asked. 

"Well, I was thinking about giving her a tapestry of her family tree. Ebby said I could commission it through Gringotts and have it by the 17th." 

"It's a good gift either way," Rose commented. "I was thinking of giving her a quill set, monogrammed parchments, and an owl messenger tube with the Armistad-Granger stations and crest on it." 

"As she doesn't have an owl, yet, and there's reason to believe that there might be a redirect on her outgoing mail, the messenger tube might not be the best option." Neville offered, "What about having case of the small thank you scrolls monogrammed to match, instead. They come in very handy." 

"Thanks, I will." Rose answered with a grin. 

"What else?" Rishard asked, clearly trying to get the discussion back on target. 

"Independence from both light and dark parties," Draco suggested. 

Looking at the guest-list, Rishard nodded. 

"The guest-list is fairly-well balanced, with a little more weight toward neutral families so that is feasible; let me know if anything comes to mind that we can use to reinforce it." 

Everyone nodded, and went back to thinking about possible goals they wanted to attempt without undermining Hermione's enjoyment. 

"Political influence." Harry chimed in from where he was sitting, reviewing his charges journals. 

"Do-able if you are thinking what I am… an alliance?" Rishard questioned, ignoring the others' surprised exclamations, studying his brother's expression. Alliances were almost never done between heirs as young as they were - particularly not involving member houses of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. 

"Do you have any objection?" Harry answered seriously, and the others knew without asking, that if Rishard did, it would put paid to the idea. While Harry was the direct heir and accepted Lord of the Potter and Peverell houses, he had quickly made it known that Rishard was his heir and due to take up at least one of the houses that he had left unclaimed. It had never been mentioned which, but Neville and the others raised in the wizarding world were aware that a number of family seats had been willed to Harry after Voldemort's demise. 

Sitting back, Rishard considered the possibility for several minutes before shaking his head. 

"It'ss a risk." Rishard commented, and Neville couldn't tell immediately whether it was an approval or denial, until Rishard finished, "but you know what they say about risk." 

Without further discussion, Rishard got up and left the room (to contact their manager Neville assumed). 

"I don't know what they say about risk," Susan commented somewhat plaintively. When she looked back to Harry though, he was already back to work on the journals, and ignoring her question (not our of being rude, just a lot more ingrained in goblin ways than the others- right down to leaving the comment hanging until she worked it into a proper, narrow question that she asked if him or one of the others.). 

"Only risk what you are willing to gain," Draco answered at the same time as Neville replied with the abbreviated version that Harry sometimes used, "risk to gain." 


	5. Of Symbol and Form

Harry watched Hermione glancing back and forth between the copious notes she had taken and his manifest wager account book, striking through questions as she came to her own answers, and jotting down others for additional research. When the Coronae Magister Magia had smugly informed him of the Armistad heiress’s request to Gringotts to change her assigned intermediate manager to himself, Harry had nearly given into the urge to groan, which he managed - somehow - to suppress but not before prompting a round of amused teeth clicks from the Magister Magia. While Harry genuinely liked and admired his housemate, even Hermione, herself, would not deny that on a good day she could be described as … intensely invested, for lack of a better phrase, in her drive to discover and digest every possible detail, custom, and skill that would help her to take up the mantle as the Lady of the Armistad and Ravenclaw estates and their attendant responsibilities; however, the numerous points she had made during her request were nearly inarguable, including that: 

     There was an inherent efficiency in not requiring that SiilverQuill, her account manager, whom had also been assigned as her intermediate manager, to travel to Hogwarts for the requisite monthly meetings, 
    Harry already supervised several of Gringotts wards in residence, 
     Harry’s shared residency in the House of Lords nearly insured that he would have almost immediate knowledge of any concerns and be in close enough proximity to provide aid and assistance as needed, 
     As they were in negotiations to initiate a formal alliance between the Houses Peverell, Black, Potter, (other inherited lines), and the Ancient and Noble houses Armistad and Ravenclaw, Harry's role as her manager meant he was both honor and magic bound not to overreach for his own benefit or the benefit of his house and also able to directly discuss particular estate and inheritance details with SilverQuill without the having to go through the tedious protocols that often accompanied information sharing during negotiations, and 
     Harry was well placed to be an immediate source to learn the proper customs attendant to the interactions between herself and the Nation, as well as several of the other skills which Gringotts' preferred its wards to maintain…. 

Which was how he now found himself 'reviewing' her understanding of the Gringotts' approved bookkeeping, as instructed by Ebby, whom along with the other Gringotts employed elves, had been thrilled to schedule weekly instruction sessions in every subject from household charms and 'efficiencies' (which she referred to as akin to Home Ec) to bookkeeping and accounting to wizarding culture and fine arts… much to the relief of their fellow housemates whom had previously found themselves fielding questions on these topics whenever some academic detail intersected with details they'd grown up knowing and understanding as part of the 'way things were', without ever needing to develop an explanation to give someone raised outside their world. 

"Okay. So, if I understand this correctly, in addition to asset, liabilities, and equity accounts, Gringotts' uses an additional two categories of accounts for potential (but not necessarily financial) changes to accounts and manifest changes to accounts. Potential account ledgers record wagers, magical contracts, heir assignments, magical judgments, and the potential gains or losses from charms, curses, and potions'. Manifest accounts record the gains and losses as they actually occur or after the fact of some event or qualification being met or unmet. Overall, though, both the manifest and potential accounts are recorded using a generalized debit-credit classification, where events that increase the resources of the House are recorded as debits and events that conversely decrease the resources are recorded as credits." Hermione paused in her explanation to sigh and utter a complaint familiar to Harry and all of the heirs and heiresses whom had received the same instruction, "This is soooooo complicated." 

"Yes," Harry agreed amicably, remembering the feeling all-too-well. "Why is it needed?" 

"Oh, I get it, unlike the muggle world, in the wizarding world there are circumstances that trigger changes in accounts that would have no other transactions related like the naming of an heir, where funds would be removed from the House's assets and spent by the heir general without a simultaneous increase in the Houses resources while the heir lives at least until the heir takes up his title and the items are subsumed in the calculation of house assets. For heiresses, depending on the Houses rules of succession, it can be more complicated yet as an heiress may either take up the title and resources like male heir, hold the resources and titles in trust for future offspring, or receive limited portions of it secured as dowries… all without any other transactions recorded sometimes spanning decades to connect transactions that occur mostly unseen with the increase and decrease of family vaults.'  
"Then there's the effect of magical judgments that don't arise from magical contracts like the heir of the milliners of Shrewsbury, who invoked a judgement of Lady Magic against his sire, hoping to take control of the house, only to incur magics wrath against himself and future heirs who prove arrogant in their positions and find themselves unable to increase the House's situation beyond the previous generation's - regardless of circumstances and arrangements- on becoming Lord's they find centuries long contracts untenable, ships sink, and trends change too quickly to keep up with, whereas heirs reported to evince proper dedication to their House have repeatedly well-exceeded their House's previous standing, even in spite of calamity and financial downturns. Similarly, the qualifying circumstances of wagers and magical contracts might not occur for generations or even centuries, but magic doesn't forget wagers or contracts even when the people they effect have." 

"Right on the mark," Harry complimented, before tapping the page of his account book and asking, "So, tell me what's going on here?"  
  


**Potter, Harrison** : _Wager Account - Manifest_ |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---  
Description: |  | DB |   | CR |   | Bal | ✓ **❘** ✗  
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
Date: | Detail: | Vault: |  | Om | Gll | Skl | Kn |   | Om | Gll | Skl | Kn |   | Om | Gll | Skl | Kn |   
29 Sept. | Holter Land Purchase | 473 |  | ⚌ | ⚊ 45 | ⚎ | ⚋ |   |  |  |  |  |   | ⚌  | ⚊ 70 ⛻ | ⚎ 2 ⛻ | ⚋ 4 ⛻ |    
_◞ Apprentice Marksrange residual interest._ |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
30 Sept. | Logic of R. Weasley Rant | 473 |  |  |  |  |  |  | ⚌ | ⚊ | ⚎ 51 | ⚋ |  | ⚌  | ⚊ 70 ⛻ | ⚎ 149 | ⚋ 4 ⛻ |   
_◞ Draco Malfoy_ |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |   
  
Hermione studied it silently for several seconds, before looking up with a confident smile. 

"The first entry is recording a wager between yourself and an apprentice map maker (I think), where the winnings included some form of percentage, interest, or ongoing payments that increased your the contents of your vault #473 and your wager revenue by 45 galleons to a balance of 7,000 galleons, 200 sickles, and 400 knuts. The second entry is a little more confusing, as it seems to be a wager between you and Draco, over a non-existent quantity … that you lost 51 sickles (or 3 galleons restated in terms of sickles for reporting efficiency), leaving your vault and wager account balance at 7,000 galleons, 149 sickles, 400 knuts. What I can't understand is whether you were struck with a confundus or imperius to bet on Ronald Weasley ever using logic, but especially not during one of his rants." 

Chuckling at her comment, Harry shook his head and gestured for her to hand him the skills assessment checklist so he could mark off the respective skills and understanding she'd demonstrated. 

"It was more a matter of the average number of times he'd repeat the same self-contradictory statements. I doubted that he'd break double digits - on the average - with repetitions alone. Draco had more faith in his tenacity." Harry answered dryly. 

"I see. That does make more sense. Thank you for your explanation… and … Harry… Thank you for agreeing to be my manager, in addition to everything else." 

“No thanks are needed.” Harry offered kindly brushing off the general over-abundance of gratitude that she had been expressing to the whole house since her birthday. Although birthdays were not celebrated to the same extent in goblin community, Harry still remembered nearly five years of being intentionally excluded from customary birthday celebrations at Privet Drive, where his relatives had almost seemed to exaggerate their own, but particularly Dudley’s birthday, to underscore how worthless they thought him to be when they deprived him of any celebration of his, even baiting him with the promise of gifts and special meals that turned out to be cruel jokes when they were given (instances of being given a worn out scrub brush on one birthday and a dish of canned dog food on another before being locked in cupboard... came to mind) so he easily understood the appeal of having birthdays celebrated with friends, which they had only learned after the fact that despite her parents’ best attempts she’d never had friendships enough to invite anyone to her birthday dinners, much less plan a party around… Still, that didn't mean that the excess of sentiment wasn't slightly uncomfortable for Harry who had adopted Gringotts' no-nonsense, don't-waste-teeth on-smiles attitudes. 

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Hermione asked wryly, thinking back on her admittedly over-effusive reaction when the party plans were finally revealed, barely an hour before the party - by her parents stepping out of the floo - fully and properly-attired in formal wizarding robes.

     Courtesy of Draco, through his mother, the Dowager Black, Hermione's mother and father - arriving in formal wizarding robes - had been almost unrecognizable as they stepped through the floo, and Hermione had almost been speechless, torn between awe and sadness that her parents had felt the need to change so radically just to visit with her. Or she had been, until her father stepped back from hugging her, properly patted her arm with the high-shoulder-pat that Millicent had described as the pat to dismiss eldest sons and daughters (as of the last half century as witches came more into their own) and informed her that her mother could catch Hermione up as they prepared for her birthday celebration. Standing so close as he lifted an index finger to 'tut' her dropped chin gently closed, Hermione was easily close enough to see the smug satisfaction in her father’s eyes, his comfort, confidence, and happiness. The insecurity he’d seemed to feel when they were practicing ‘wizarding manners’ over the summer was nowhere to be seen. 
     “Off you go, now.” He laughed before turning to greet Blaise as Hermione’s mother stepped up to hug her and usher her to her room, with Millicent quickly joining them.
     After giving Hermione a brisk hug, her mother turned to Millicent offering, “I realize it’s completely out of order to say this, but please call me Jean, Dear. My full, given-name is Monica Jean Ulster Granger née Wilkins, but honestly ‘Monica’ is a name I’d expect from a barrista, not a respectable medical professional.”
     “Thank you, Ma’am. In turn and courtesy, I am Heiress Bulstrode, Miss Millicent Ethridge Bulstrode, but please feel free to use my given name, Millicent.” Millicent answered with a smile, kindly changing the format of her polite response to more closely match her mother’s offer. 
     “Oh, thank you, Millicent, for the honor. Bulstrode, you say; may I ask, if you are of the Bulstrode Line of Buckinghamshire noted in verse?”
     Sharing one of her rare, un-masked expressions that almost bordered on being a wry smile, Millicent nodded, answering: "When William conquered English ground, Bulstrode had per annum three hundred pound ^. Yes, Ma’am, my ancestor seven generations back was Eldwine Bulstrode, the sixth son of the Lord Bulstrode referred to in the poem and the only son possessing magic. Blessed with longevity and greater resistance to illness, three hundred pound per annum went to Eldwine after his brothers died in battle or from natural causes and he separated himself from the muggle world, starting the Bulstrode family. " 
     Turning back to Hermione, Millicent explained, "Father and Uncle have always found it greatly amusing that the Bulstrode Family name was included in the index of Ancient and Noble families, the so-called sacred twenty-eight as one of the ‘truly pure-blood’ families, while we know better, and everyone suspects that my great, great grandfather Allance intentionally miss-informed the reporter and forged a magical birth-certificate to back his claim up.” 
     The next hour was practically surreal as her mother and Millicent teamed up to help her prepare for the party. They were soon to be joined by the Dowager Black, who had also been assisting her parents integration into the Wizarding World (another aspect of Draco's gift) so that on taking up her titles, Hermione wouldn't face being criticized (in some circles) for seeming to pander to useless unfortunate squib relatives or alternately feeling the need to constantly make allowances for their unfamiliarity with the customs of 'polite' (read pureblood) society. As they helped her into the intricate gown that her mother and father had commissioned for her - - with their wages from Gringotts, where they were now employed as muggle-medical investment advisors -- Hermione's mother quickly updated her on the changes in her parents' lives, including their new wizarding citizenship status as squibs (backed by the documentation of Hermione's inheritance test), their sale via Gringotts of their practice at a much nicer profit than any of the muggle relators had offered, their subsequent installation into one of the London - Armistad family properties, which her father had become entitled to claim on the birth of a magical child, and their introduction to the Dowager Black, who had since become their mentor and benefactor, introducing her parents through her sister into some of the more liberal social circles, giving them the opportunity to essentially get their feet wet before having to face the deeper and more treacherous waters of traditional circles. 
     By the time they had finished and we're ready to escort Hermione down the spiral staircase into the House of Lord's large conference turned ballroom for the night, Hermione felt like a queen whose every wish had been granted… even ones she hadn't known that she had. Having previously believed that the small gathering at the House of Lord's table at lunch, accompanied -unfortunately- by an impromptu weakly congratulatory 'speech' from the Headmaster, was the full extent of the remembrance of her birthday, Hermione was rather un-prepared for the sight that met her eyes as she reached the bottom of the staircase. 
    The conference turned ballroom had apparently taken the charms used to augment the Great Hall and decided to outdo itself creating a circular boundary to the room formed by high archways of gold and pastel stained glass that depicted episode of Hermione's heritage from the first Lady Armistad preparing potions for poor penitents visiting the nunnery through centuries picturing an ancestor who had apparently been a gentleman farmer handing food out to grateful peasants, her great grandfather putting his wife and children on a train to the countryside to avoid the London bombings - his Red Cross armband and uniform making plain why he was staying behind, down to her mother and father's brief stint in Doctors without Borders after college. Warm light streamed through the stained glass arches and filled the room with cool-toned pastels that were reflected onto the acromantula-lace sheers covering narrow expanses of wall between and framing the elegantly decorated and lace-covered console tables set against each span and filled with favors, appetizers, beverages, a full tea service, finger sandwiches, and finally gifts. To Hermione’s even greater surprise, the three large conference tables and smaller work tables had been replaced by seven round guest tables each seating three to four guests with additional seats for her housemates. In fact, her attention had been so occupied that she barely noticed the row of her male housemates standing at the base of the stairs, waiting for her to select an escort… suddenly drawing attention to the fact that behind her parents and the Dowager Lady Black, her female housemates were paired off and following as if they were ladies in waiting in attendance to some queen or princess. 
     “Heiress Armistad,” Dowager Black commented softly, with amusement as Hermione began to step off the stairs, “It is customary to pause on the last step, to give your escorts a moment to gather their composure, before making your selection.” 
     The comment made no sense to Hermione until she noticed that Justin, Draco, Blaise, and Neville were staring at her with marked surprise. Rishard and Harry were watching her as well, but not with the intense surprise that seemed to color the other heir’s faces. 
     With a soft murmur of thanks to Dowager Black, Hermione paused on the steps until her housemates slightly awkward stares turned back to normal watchfulness before she finally stepped down and -with the gifts he and his mother had given to Herrmione and her parents in mind, chose Draco as her escort. After Draco escorted her, his mother, and her parents, to a table with guests from neutral families, the night had progressed … well... magically, and... 

“This makes no sense,” Millicent’s frustrated voice drew Hermione out of her pleasant reminiscences of her party. 

“In what way?” Harry patiently questioned Millicent, who had joined them at the study table while Hermione had been daydreaming. 

“Why would you suggest I read this to improve my understanding of Arithomancy? First, I don’t have a problem with muggles, but this is a book about muggle math, not Arithomancy, and second, listen to this:” 

> This book deals with ideas, not with methods. All irrelevant technicalities have been studiously avoided, and to understand the issues involved no other mathematical equipment is required than that which is offered in the average [secondary school] curriculum.
> 
> But though this book does not presuppose on the part of the reader, a mathematical education, it presupposes something which is just as rare: a capacity for absorbing and appraising ideas. Furthermore, while this book avoids the technical aspects of the subject, it is not written for those who are afflicted with an incurable horror of the symbol, nor for those who are inherently form blind. This is a book on mathematics: it deals with symbol and form and with the ideas which are back of the symbol or of the form.
> 
> _Number: The Language of Science - A Critical Survey for the Cultured Non-Mathematician_ , Tobias Dantzig. 1945

“Why was the book even written if it doesn’t explain the technical aspects of math? How am I supposed to be able to compare them to the technical details of Math to Arithomancy if they aren’t even included? And it was written in 1945. Arithomantic understanding has changed dramatically since 1953, Professor Flitwick was discussing that during our study session Wednesday.” 

“Yes, he was, but…” Harry answered while casting a quickly-suppressed longing glance to the small stack of journals and essays he had been working on just before Hermione had asked him for time. Thinking of the questions Millicent had asked, Hermione considered her confidence with the subject, before nodding as much to herself as anyone else, and took a leap of faith. 

“Harry, may I?” 

After glancing over to Millicent to make sure that she was okay with having Hermione answer her questions, instead of Harry, which - to Hermione’s relief - she was, Harry leaned back to listen for a second, but kept his finger in place in the journal he had been working on when Millicent camep up. 

“Well, if you remember the Coronae Magister Magia’s lecture regarding the events surrounding the War against the factions of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and the concurrent and in some ways overlapping events of muggle World War II, during the middle and late 1940’s, there was a much greater rate of interaction between muggle and magical communities due to members tendency in each community to take shelter in the other community in times of peril. This was particularly true of with muggleborns. As a result of this increased interaction, ideas were shared that affected major sociological and academic thinking in both communities, the 1953 reformation of Arithomancy standards is a perfect example of ….” 

Noticing as Harry sat slightly straighter, returning his attention back to the journal he’d been focusing on, Hermione gave herself a mental ‘high five’ and happily continued her explanation to Millicent. It really was quite a fascinating subject. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small note, I am aware there is some non-standard indenting in Hermione's responses, which I added for readability. 
> 
>  
> 
> ^ Lowe, Mark Anthony, Patronymica Britannica, A Dictionary of Family Names of the United Kingdom. London: John Russel Smith, 1860. Print.


	6. Sauin

> “TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! T-TROOLLL IN THE DUNGEON!!” 

Dumbledore’s defense instructor, a Mister Quirrell, Harry thought, (uncertified and based on his current display, quite-probably untrained) cried out with all of the distasteful dramatics that his guardians disdained of from the general wizarding populace and, in doing so, naturally, succeeded in petrifying nine measures out of ten of the seemingly untrained students of the four common houses… before staggering to a stop with a feeble… “thought you ought to know.” 

To Harry’s utter disgust, the ‘professor’ - seeming to lack an appropriately hysterical ending for his announcement - elected to stagger a few steps more before wilting to the ground in a display of seeming-unconsciousness that would have shamed even the most-untrained of goblin striplings. As if triggered by the display, the astonished silence that had draped the room following shredded like fairy-floss with the shrill, hysterical cries of nearly the entire hall of students - and too Hogwarts shame (in Harry’s opinion)- a fair handful of instructors.

While the House of Lords table was not entirely immune to the spectacle, Harry was was somewhat pleased to note that the panic at their table was from the House’s least trained members with little to no desired- affiliation to Gringotts: the Ladies Frobisher and Zeller, who - thankfully - were quickly calmed to sensibility by Blaise and Neville, allowing the house to rise as a unit and turn expectantly toward the headmaster. 

To the school’s far greater shame, however, the Headmaster, who had, up until that very moment, seemed to be enjoying the chaos only to realize he was being observed, finally, elected to do something, if wailing for “Silence!!!!” could actually be considered doing something. At least, it had the effect of stopping the majority of panicking students in their paths; his next words, however, crushed any potential ‘credit’ Harry might have been weakly tempted to give the man for finally acting as thoroughly as starlight crocus seeds beneath a pestal.

> “Everyone will please, not panic. Now, Prefects will lead their houses back to the dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons.” 

Rather than waste precious time addressing the Headmaster, Harry instead addressed Hogwarts itself, now able to be heard in the restored silence:

     "Great Lady, the House of Lords implores thee to keep us safe at thine hearth and hold fast thy defenses around thy children. So do we implore thee." 
    As he finished, as one, the members of the house picked up the last line of his request and spoke in the same breath:
     "So mote it be."

Startled and still, having not yet moved to to follow the Headmaster's order, the stunned students of every other house stared at the House of Lords' table in confusion, which swiftly turned to awe as the doors to the Great Hall seemed to close of their own accord - bars of stolid oak, a hand thick and two hands high slid across the double entry way doors reinforcing the doors with impenetrable looking buttresses that one by one began to gleam with the castle's magic as the ancient wards that so few had bothered to read about in _Hogwarts: a History_ locked the Great Hall down.

"Mister Potter, you will not countermand an order that I, as the rightfully appointed headmaster, have given to Hogwarts' students!" The Headmaster snapped only barely managing to contain the malice in his tone.

"It is Lord Peverell-Potter, Sir," Lady Bones answered, objecting as they had - numerous times before - to the man's over-familiarity. "Perhaps, you have not recently read the charter of the House of Lords so may not realize that one of the designated duties of the House of Lords is to point out matters, which have been overlooked." 

"Young Lady, I would counsel you to mind your manners unless you would like to sit detention. I was speaking directly to Mr Potter, did not ask after your opinion, and have not 'overlooked' anything."

From the subtle stiffening of the other house members in his peripheral vision, Harry recognized that he wasn't only one incensed by the Headmaster's tone, but paused to study the old wizard, wondering if there wasn't some trap beneath the man's illogical and inexplicable behavior. Hermione, proving herself - once again - the niffler that burrowed where dragon's feared to tread, took up the argument further deflecting the attention away from Harry:

"But, Sir, you must realize why we would believe so?”

“I must do nothing of the sort,” the headmaster nearly growled back, seeming to forget himself in his irritation at being interrupted again, by someone other than Harry. 

From his expression and the expectant way that the old man had been staring at Harry, Harry was beginning to suspect that the headmaster had been almost intentionally goading - anticipating that Harry would protest. The question, in Harry’s mind, though was how far the goad had been intended. Was it just his response to Harry? Or in sending the Slytherin and Hufflepuff houses into the Troll’s path? Just how much was the headmaster willing to risk to provoke a response from Harry? And what gain did he hope to get from it? 

Putting the question aside, Harry directed his attention to the spot where he knew Hibby and the other contingent of Gringotts’ elves were standing and silently ordered Hibby to retrieve his brother and Professor Snape; Ebby to inform Mgr. Griphook of the incident; and Sala, Cala, Tanky, and Prust to retrieve any unaware students who had eschewed the feast for some other activity - confident in the elves ability to move through the school without being detected by the Troll.

“But Sir,” Hermione protested, continuing to demand the headmaster’s attention, as Harry gave the elves their orders. “What would it say to the parents, much less the Ministry, if word got out that 'The House of Lords' - heirs and future Wizengamot members (all-to-a member) believed that you knowingly chose to send the full contingent of two whole houses directly into the path of a troll, with forewarning that troll was in the same dungeons that housed the only viable student access to their house? Especially when we can’t be certain of the state of the wards?”

The silence, which had fallen as the stunned students and professors watched, yet again, a protest between the headmaster and the house of lords, dissolved into the discontented grumbles of students from all houses, but particularly those whom had nearly been sent into danger…None so loud though as to prevent many from hearing Professor Sprout’s distressed confession that she had not made the connection, repeated several times over as the Medi-witch tried to comfort the clearly distressed witch. As the discontented grumbling became increasingly audible, the headmaster’s posture stiffened significantly- noticeably annoyed that their clever heiress had pointed out what none of the other students had seemed to consider. It wasn’t the first time that they had caught the wizard ‘wrong-footed’ as Rose liked to say, but Harry thought it might be the first time that the student body seemed to realize how out of line the headmaster was, and the man realized it though he didn’t seem prepared to rebut it, given his weak response:

“Nonsense, the wards are as strong as ever.” 

“Sir, that can’t be true. _Hogwarts: A History_ clearly states that ‘Headmaster Cautious Clay, in 1447, added wards to prevent the encroachment of of dark creatures including mountain trolls, werewolves, acromantula, lethifold, dementors, hags, and infiri onto the Hogwarts grounds, increasing the defensibility of the castle itself, which had been similarly warded since the founders establishment of the school.’ Given that the troll had to come onto Hogwarts grounds before he could enter the castle proper, clearly there has to be something wrong with the wards. As ward-holder for the school, Headmaster, there must obviously be something “out of whack” with the wards preventing you from getting a clear reading, as I’m certain you would have otherwise locked the castle down at the first sign of creature’s presence on the grounds.” 

“Well spoken, Lady Armistad Granger,” Mgr. Griphook answered, stepping away from Ebby who had clearly ported him and smug (at least to Harry’s discerning eyes) Ward Master into the castle, unannounced. “Headmaster as per Gringotts’ contractual agreement to Hogwarts, I have contracted Ward Master BndrGa’rd to address the threat and make necessary corrections in the wards.”

“Goblins, you are not authorized to be here, except at the request of myself or the governing board, neither of which will have contacted you."

" Again Headmaster," Harry interrupted the old Wizard, in a manner that he was certain he would be hearing about from Mgr. Griphook and the Coronae Magister Magia for his utter and - in goblin custom - unforgivably, rude manner toward the wizard, "Your ignorance of both the House of Lords’ Charter and Gringotts' sworn oaths of Custody and Guardianship, which were submitted to you with our acceptance letters is evident and unnecessarily unproductive. As the on- site assistant Manager charged with the direct oversight of all matters involving or affecting the resident Gringotts’ wards, it is my duty to inform my direct manager, Mgr. Griphook of any perceived threat that trespasses on Hogwarts grounds."

In truth, Harry didn't regret his show of disrespect in the slightest. The time the man was wasting while a dangerous creature stalked school grounds was only increasing the dangers to the students, not lessening it (though, Harry was quickly beginning to suspect that the student body’s well-being was of little to no concern to the old wizard), furthered nothing, as far as Harry could see, and the unproductivity of it all infuriated Harry. 

“It’s not your place, boy.” The headmaster fumed, before seeming to realize that he was losing his cool publically and visibly fought to regain his amiable facade, before continuing, “Regardless, their presence is not authorized…” 

“Except under the charter and oaths of Custody and Guardianship, as I’ve just stated.” Harry insisted. “As part of the agreements between the Wizengamot and Gringotts’, Gringotts’ is contractually obligated to ensure the safety of its charges through all means necessary, including Ward checks.” Harry barely withheld his sneer as the Headmaster, for once, stayed quiet, seeming to realize that he didn’t have an argument he could make that wouldn’t ring false and be reported back to their parents by a majority of the students. While the House of Lords comprised the heirs and heiresses of Ancient and Noble houses, all but a small handful of the student body had one or both parents who interacted with and lived or worked in the Wizarding World, and much of the headmaster’s political power rested on the currency of his reputation. , Publicly, making feeble arguments, while putting their children at risk, was hardly the way to grow that currency. 

Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, Harry turned to Mgr. Griphook and Ward Master BndrGa’rd, “Manager, Ward Master.”

Mgr. Griphook’s brows were raised so high that Harry wanted to wince. He was in for it. He just knew it. There is no way that his managers nor the Magister Magia would approve of him publicly challenging Dumbledore. Mgr. Griphook, though, seemed to elect to address the matter at a later date and merely gestured to Ward Master BndrGa’rd to start the process, which the ward master did without further waste of time. 

As the ward master began to chant, the defensive magic of Hogwarts already woken by the House of Lords’ request rose up swirling through the room in gusts of energy that glowed the hue of molten gold as it they swept through the room ruffling the audience’s robes as ran over them seeming to appraise each before moving on. With their attention drawn to the startling gusts of energy very few noticed how the gusts cycled around the headmaster, seeming to try to push and pull him from his spot, without success. They were much more successful with the fallen body of Professor Quirrel, levitating him unceremoniously, as the doors to the Great Hall swept open of their own accord, and flinging the still seemingly unconscious professor out the doors, which slammed shut behind them.

Despite the doors being shut and barred once more, the gathered were very aware of the Troll’s expulsion from the castle informed by the sounds of the creature’s noticeably-frightened growls and roars as it was obviously, given their previous show, levitated past. More surprising, however, were the sounds that followed: the first sounding like pleading howls of terrified hounds and a rustling, slithery sound that while not discernibly human or animal, was nevertheless perceptibly distressed. In the distance, they heard the sounds of the castle doors flinging open, and from further still the clanging of Hogwarts gates before the silence and gusts of magic finally settled.”

Rishard, who’d arrived with Hibby just before Ward Master BndrGa’rd began his chant, caught Harry’s attention with three quick snaps and questioned (in goblin hand gestures): ~~~ Did you observe? ~~~ ending his gesture with a thumb pointing toward the headmaster.

~~~ Yes. ~~~ Harry gestured, carefully not looking toward the headmaster as he considered what he’d seen; the wards of Hogwarts considered the headmaster a potential threat, even if his position was sufficient to keep him from being ejected. 

ブレンキン

Slamming the door shut between himself and the monstrous beast that clearly been Hagrid’s donation to the protection for the Philosopher’s Stone, Severus fell back against the wall, gasping as he cast every locking spell he could think of on the door. Ignoring the pain of the bite that the _XXXXX RESTRICTED!!!!_ Cereberus had managed to inflict before Severus could get out the door.

Despite himself, he jerked further away from the door as he heard the beast throw itself against the door, shuddering as the beast’s claws rasped against the door, splintering centuries-hardened wood in their wake. 

“Bloody. Blasted. Buggering. Hell !!!!” He cursed, momentarily forgetting himself and the years of propriety and elocution that he had ingrained into his manner perforce of will and the deep desire to escape his roots.

“Albus’s lost the damn plot, this time! Protect the student my arse! What is the old fool thinking? Even if the Dark Lord were caught red-handed in the Great Hall, he’d kill one maybe two students, for the shock value to make the headmaster stand down. A bloody, Cereberus? They’re XXXXX rated and ministry-restricted for a reason! Damn things enjoy gnawing on wizards for the fun of it, as pups, and that thing’s the size of a bloody bear! It would tear apart an entire house, just to work up an appetite.” 

Momentarily running out of steam from exasperation as he tried to get his breathing and pulse back in line, Severus let himself fall back against the wall, trying to suppress the battle-trained instincts which tended to offer up pyrrhic solutions - all inappropriate to his current surroundings: for instance, using blasting curses to ‘herd’ the creature out of the castle when there could be an unknown number of children out on the grounds. He had almost completely succeeded when a surge of molten gold magical energy swept down the corridor, blasting the door he’d spent twelve casts to lock against the creature, and split with one tendril wrapping around the beast’s four legs (dissolving the chains as it swept them tightly together) and the other tendril diving through the trapdoor he had noticed but not dared to approach. 

He watched in astonishment as wild magic flipped the creature upside down, dangling it from its hold like a paper-sacked lunch, and swept it out through the door and back down the corridor from which it came. Seconds later, an immense bloody Devil’s Snare plant followed in like condition, its vines and creepers flailing like a bloody obscurial and clinging as much as the energy permitted to any thing in reach - trying to fight its eviction. One vine even reached out, desperately for Severus, but before he could even think of casting a _lumos_ , _luminos_ , or _lumos solem_ , the magical energy had curled around the vine and gently but insistently pulled it back into the mass as it was toted back down the hall. 

Speechless, Severus slid down the wall, in shock, listening while the raging menaces protested their expulsion through the halls, down the stairwell, and even as Hogwarts gates clanged shut behind them… only recovering enough to remember himself and drag himself back up the wall - cursing as the pain from the beast’s bite became the sole focus of his attention. 

Slipping a shaking index finger down to part the jetted edges of his vest’s fob pocket, Severus fumbled for one the bezoars he kept close to hand and cursed when it dropped from his near-nerveless grip. Thankfully, the second was less smooth and stuck in his increasingly sweaty grip long enough for him to get it to his mouth. Biting down on it, he crushed the stone between his teeth, until he could swallow enough of the resultant paste to quell the dizziness rushing over him. With the beast's venomous saliva and undoubtedly tainted bite, he’d be lucky not to lose his leg from it. 

Pushing the thought from his mind, Severus focused on pushing himself away from the wall and starting the long painful walk down to his quarters. When Cala suddenly appeared beside him asking whether offering to ‘port’ him to the infirmary, Severus couldn’t help sigh of relief that escaped before he gave into a moment of weakness and nodded. There hadn’t been any students in the infirmary when he’d dropped off his batch of potions for Poppy, before heading to the Astronomy tower, so he wouldn’t have to worry about any of the little sprogs seeing something they shouldn’t, and Poppy, herself, was well-enough aware of the duties he’d performed for the headmaster to not ask unanswerable questions. 


End file.
